


In Case of Emergency

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Engagement Party, F/F, Firefighter Liam, Girl Direction, Pajama Party, Tumblr Prompt, always girls one direction, cisgirl one direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: Harry and Louis have a PJ party that....goes a little awry





	In Case of Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr post:
> 
> http://nikkxb.tumblr.com/post/173865520508/i-used-to-work-in-the-lingerie-department-of-a
> 
> I COULD NOT HELP MYSELF

Zayn’s trying to endure a caffeine and nicotine slump during the middle of a Wednesday when Harry swoops towards her desk, the scent of peonies following in her wake. Zayn raises a brow and gives Harry elevator eyes, gaze going up and down to take in the spectacle that is, as always, Harry. Today she’s wearing a belted denim jumpsuit, high-heeled black sandals, and a floral-patterned turban—but what Zayn notices, more urgently, is the pink envelop in her hand.

“What.” Zayn moves her hands away from her keyboard. She should really be laser-focused on work, given that she has a looming deadline for the interface of their client’s website revamp, but Harry makes for a relatively harmless distraction from Zayn’s dull headache.

Harry claps once before swooping in to give Zayn a glossy kiss on the forehead. “Look alive, sour-puss. I already Postmate-d you coffee, so you’re required to listen to me for at least the five minutes it’ll take to arrive.”

Zayn exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders. “You’re amazing.” This is a sentiment Zayn does not often communicate to Harry, although it is quite true, generally speaking.

“Right, yes, well, remember that when you open this.” Harry waggles the pink envelope in one hand, along with waggling her eyebrows.

“What is it?” Zayn shrinks back a little, running one suddenly-sweaty palm down her left leg. Her motorcycle leggings don’t do much to absorb the sweat, but the movement is grounding. “Is it bad?”

“No. I mean, not for me. Or for you!” Harry is quick to assure her, somehow stumbling over her own feet in the process. Christ. “It’s an invitation to my engagement party.”

Zayn relaxes a bit. “Oh, gotcha. Why—why are you hand-delivering it?”

Harry snorts. “I can’t mail it to you, because you don’t check your mail, and I can’t put it in your pigeonhole here at work, because you don’t check that either.”

“Dude. We work in tech. Anything important can be communicated without paper, and certainly quicker than the postal service can deliver literally anything.”

“I’m an old-fashioned girl, Z.” She drops the envelope in Zayn’s lap and steeples her fingers together, waiting. “Plus, you introduced me and Louis, so I figured you of all people deserve first-class treatment.”

“Harry, I swear to God, this better not be scented.”

“Come on. It’s definitely scented.”

Zayn groans, but picks the envelope up and rips open the flap.

“Don’t hate me.”

“A _pajama party?”_

Harry immediately gives Zayn a huge, dimpled grin. “Wear your cutest jim-jams, and I promise you can sleep over at my place after you get so cross-faded you can’t see straight.”

Zayn sighs.

:::

Zayn shows up to the party fully prepared with a 24-pack of Stella and an overnight bag. She’s wearing her civvies because there’s no way in hell she’s wearing pajamas in public unless she’s heading to Kroger for late-night rage-fueled ice cream.

Louis yanks the door open before Zayn can knock, because she is basically prescient and terrifying. She looks a bit manic, her hair in a messy top-knot as she waves a bottle of Pinot Grigio in Zayn’s general direction. She’s wearing a fitted Green Bay Packers jersey over deep-green joggers. “Zaynie, my girl! Thank god you brought beer, I’m sick of pretending to drink champagne.” She ushers Zayn inside, foisting the bottle into her hand.

“This—isn’t champagne,” Zayn argues, switching the bottle for her Stella.

“No, I know, that’s for Harry. I got bored during Twister and offered to get her a refill.”

“So you—got her the full bottle?”

Louis snorts. “It’s a whole big thing. She’s dressed like Rizzo from Grease because she’s a sap and knows it’s my favorite movie. Claims carrying a bottle around adds to the authenticity?” She waves a hand, dismissing the thought. “I dunno, it’s a theme night. You think I wear Green Bay Packers jerseys for my health? Nah. They’re Harry’s thing, you know I prefer soccer,” she adds, rolling her eyes, voice pitched low as though Harry might overhear them.

Zayn grimaces. “I really don’t need to be involved in an elaborate roleplay scenario tonight, thanks.”

“Fuck off.” Louis guides Zayn into the kitchen, setting down the Stella so she can grab a bottle from the box. Opening it, she continues, “I agreed to the theme for the engagement party as long as you and I get to plan the bachelorette.”

“Oh, sweet.”

Louis takes a quick sip from her beer. “Also, you wouldn’t be our choice for a third. Sorry.”

Zayn blinks, not sure whether to be insulted or not. “Right.”

“I adore you, I really do, but I’m not one for undercuts and head tattoos, love. I’m sure you’ll find yourself the perfect lesbian couple to menage with.”

“I’m bi.”

“Okay.”

Zayn scrunches up her face. “Wait, that’s not the point.”

“I should hope not.”

“I don’t want to hook up with you either!”

Louis scoffs. “Again, I should hope not. It’s my engagement party!” She necks half the bottle of beer before surfacing. “Now change in to your pajamas or you’ll make Harry very, very sad, and I can’t have that.”

“I hate you both.”

“Adore you too!”

:::

Zayn drops her bag in the guest room, glad it’s basically free of glitter and decorative detritus. She shucks off her leather jacket, army-green Henley, and shredded jeans, replacing them with the only pajamas she’ll ever admit to wearing: a Batman onesie.

Generally, she sleeps in just a pair of boxers, but she’d prefer not to go topless during someone else’s party, and she knows that Harry might actually cry if she didn’t wear some kind of theme-based getup.

Harry’s sensitive like that.

After she changes, Zayn reluctantly goes in search of the Twister game, if only to greet Harry and deliver her the bottle of chilled white wine. She is unsurprised to find Harry with her face pressed onto the floor, having apparently fallen down mere moments ago.

“Uh, do I offer best wishes or congratulations to the bride?” Zayn asks, helping Harry to her feet. Harry’s wearing a pair of silky shorts and a purple button-up top with only one button done, her hair pinned around her head in a general approximation of Stockard Channing.

“Not sure,” Harry replies with a shrug, leaning in to hug Zayn. “Thanks for coming!”

Zayn only rolls her eyes, tugging at Harry’s collar. “Surprised you’re not dressed as Frenchy.”

Harry smiles, dimples popping. “Think Rizzo’s a bit more my style.”

“What, an easy lay?” Zayn ducks easily away from Harry’s offended jab, chuckling under her breath. She hands Harry the wine in appeasement. “From your betrothed.”

“Thanks. Niall’s in the kitchen baking the next batch of brownies, if you wanna join her? Not so crowded as out here.” Zayn gives Harry a small, appreciative smile. “Also, if you see a blonde wig around here somewhere, let me know? Nick stole it awhile back and I highly doubt he’s still wearing it. Feel positively naked without it.”

Zayn flicks Harry’s sternum. “You probably feel naked because we can all see your tits,” she says before moving towards the kitchen.

“Find me later or I’ll ice your bra overnight!”

:::

“Hey, Ni.” Zayn ducks into the fridge and snags one of the beers she brought, popping the cap off easily.

“Hiya.” Niall has a bit of cocoa smeared on one pale cheek, but the most arresting parts of her appearance are down below: namely, she’s wearing bunny slippers, shamrock-patterned boxers, and a D.A.R.E crop-top. “You just get here?”

“Bit ago, yeah. Um.”

“Eh?” Niall opens the oven and takes out a pan of brownies, smiling contentedly as she sets them on the stovetop. “The pans near the sink are the coolest, if you want to have some.”

“Right.” Zayn grabs a fork and digs in. “So, just so we’re clear, you’re making pot brownies while wearing a shirt that attests to your drug-awareness-and-resistance lifestyle?”

Niall shrugs, tossing her short blonde hair away from her eyes with a shake of her head. “I got through drug awareness, sure. Never actually made it to the drug resistance part, though.”

“Oh.” Zayn finishes her brownie and downs more of her drink. “Are we going to be subjected to party games, do you think?”

“Fam, they’re already playing Twister, and Harry planned this thing. What do _you_ think?”

:::

It seems that the entire party took Harry’s mandate of pajama-wear seriously, although with differing levels of the “cuteness” she claims to prefer. 

Firstly, Zayn notes that Nick is still wearing Harry’s blonde wig, but that he also has on a very long and very brightly-patterned muumuu. He and someone who may be called Alexa—she’s wearing an oversized nightshirt that has sunflowers over the breasts—are sitting cross-legged on the couch, throwing candy into one another’s mouths. Louis’ sister Lottie is wearing a light-blue teddy, all lace and silk, and it makes Zayn blush so much she has to look away, directly towards Steve, who has on literally just an all-black ensemble of a tank-top and sweatpants.

Zayn doesn’t recognize everyone in the room, which is unsurprising, but she does see Gemma across the room as they begin Two Truths and a Lie, sporting a nightgown covered in cats and yarn-balls, and she’s got on ruffled ankle socks, to boot. Gemma’s working to connect the karaoke machine to Louis’ high-tech sound system—Louis’ got high-tech everything, really, not just because she’s engaged to Harry but also because she works in crime-prevention and can afford to pay out the nose for new shit—and Zayn’s kind of enjoying watching the whole spectacle, mostly with her newfound buzz.

Once the system is set up, Louis grabs the mic. “Two truths and a lie! Good ice breaker and shit, whatever. You lose your round, you take a drink!”

“Louis, I am literally seven months pregnant,” says someone from the couch.

Louis pumps one fist into the air. “Cher, in the darling polka-dot maternity set! You may drink seltzer!”

Harry trips her way forward to steal the microphone from Louis. “No one ought to feel pressured to do anything at all. Except wear cute pajamas, as that is harmless, and everyone already is. This is a safe space. But I should—I should note that the brownies have weed in them, but the cookies will not.”

Niall perks her head up. “Cookies?”

Harry nods, grinning. “We’re gonna bake and decorate later!”

Zayn finishes her beer and her brownie within moments, resigned to festivities.

:::

Two Truths and a Lie goes about as well as can be expected from a group of relative strangers—it’s entertaining, and it leads to even more inebriation. Somehow, Louis’ friend Stan, who knows almost none of the group (he’s wearing a plaid flannel two-piece, very masculine) wins the entire game, and the prize is a string of _naughty Mardi Gras beads._

“That’s what they called them at the store,” Harry reasons, placing them around Stan’s neck.

The next game is ring-toss, with inflatable rings, and it feels like a good time for Zayn to get another beer from the kitchen, along with another brownie. She needs a moment to exhale.

She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, having gone through her entire instagram feed, two beers, and one brownie, when the entire party joins her in the room.

“What,” she croaks, hopping off the counter.

“Cookie time!” Harry crows, slinging an arm around Zayn’s neck. She’s still clutching the wine bottle in her right hand, and some of her curls have come loose of their pins, but she seems relatively together, so much so that Zayn doesn’t feel the need to worry.

:::

Zayn doesn’t worry for quite a while, because she and Shawn (wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt, constantly eyeing up Niall like he may have designs on her, not that Zayn would blame him) are positively owning the decorating contest.

“I really like your masc-presenting bride,” Shawn tells Zayn, accidentally poking his finger into the frosting of her suit-wearing cookie-person. He’s staring directly at Niall while he says it.

Zayn sighs, moving Shawn’s hand. “As far as I know, she’s single, but if you’re a dick to her, I will murder you and torture your entire family.”

He smiles. “Really?”

“Oh my god.” 

Zayn buries her face in her hands just long enough for the fire alarm to go off.

:::

Most of the guests manage to grab coats on the way out—the more scantily-clad ones needing to, naturally—but Zayn is all too ready to head outside for a cigarette, so she forgoes outerwear. She sits on the curb and lights up, periodically ashing into the gutter.

“You the arsonist, then?”

Zayn flails slightly before standing up. “What? No!”

A female firefighter catches Zayn by the elbow. “Whoa, whoa. I’m joking. Sorry, my—my jokes don’t always land.”

She has her helmet under the arm not grasping Zayn’s arm, and she hefts it slightly. “Okay.”

“We’re just glad no one’s hurt, yeah? Your friend—”

“Louis.”

The firefighter nods, pursing her lips. “Right, your friend Louis has a really sensitive security system, which is great—”

“She works in crime prevention.”

“Awesome.” The firefighter moves her hand from Zayn’s arm to her shoulder. “How about we sit down?” 

They separate and settle onto the curb, and Zayn takes a deep breath. “Hey. Right. I’m Liam. Nice to meet you.”

“Under these circumstances, though, eh?”

Liam grimaces. “Yeah.” She sighs. “But everything here is okay. Our team checked it out. You, uh, get kinda nervous around fire?”

“Why? Do you?”

Liam seems to consider this, tucking a stray piece of hair back into her ponytail. “I have a healthy respect for fire.”

Zayn laughs. “Fair.” She sighs. “In any other circumstances, I’d assume you were some kind of—uh, entertainment or something. Like a stripper.”

“Wait. Is this a bachelorette party or something, Batman?” Liam raises a brow. “I’m intrigued.”

“Engagement party. Wear cute pajamas theme.”

“And—you chose a Batman onesie.”

“Batman is the best,” Zayn scoffs, getting to her feet, still feeling the weed and beer in her system, but not wanting to admit it.

“Yeah, no, Batman is the best. That’s not what I meant.” Liam hops up from the curb, eyeing her crew as they make their way back onto the truck.

Zayn turns. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I just meant that I usually just sleep naked, that’s all.” She quirks her lips, handing Zayn a slip of paper. “Here’s my number. Use it for rolling paper or kindling if you want, but, uh. If not, it’d be nice to hang out.”

Zayn takes it slowly, mouth hanging open.

“Later, Batman.”

:::

Two hours later, during a very annoying game of Sexy Scattegories, Zayn answers the door to find Liam, who is now wearing Batman pajamas rather than firefighting attire. She runs one hand through her hair, no longer in a ponytail. She looks apprehensive.

“Uh, you said, stop by? Maybe?”

Zayn tosses the hood off of her Batman onesie, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Liam ducks her head, moving inside.

“Please, for the love of god, tell me you’re good at charades?”

**Author's Note:**

> I am wearing a D.A.R.E crop-top RIGHT NOW if you wanted to know (I never graduated D.A.R.E.) 
> 
> my tumblr: musiclily


End file.
